After wrapping things up in Jianjing, they headed back to Jinyang. Fang Li’s brief respite ended, and he dove headfirst into producing his new album.
Qin Weidong was equally swamped. Their days of being constantly glued together were over, but Fang Li didn’t mind. They had been a couple for six years already—and that wasn’t even counting their childhood. All told, it had been close to two decades.
For twenty years, they had been practically inseparable. At this point, their closeness transcended physical distance. Whether they were physically together or not, it simply didn’t matter; they just were together. They knew the other was always there, as essential and natural as breathing or eating.
In July, after the college entrance exams, Fang Li received an invitation to the annual Golden Melody Gala at Jianjing’s television station. His live performance was flawless. His ethereal, angelic voice made many producers—who had once dismissed him as merely a pretty face—see him in a completely new light. Work began pouring in.
At the end of July, his Mandarin album, Kiss, was released to capitalize on the summer rush. The entire album was in Mandarin. Thanks to his established fame in Hong Kong and Taiwan, coupled with Wave Entertainment’s relentless promotion, the album was playing during prime time on all major radio stations a week before its release. When it finally dropped, it smashed through double platinum sales in its first week. The accompanying music videos were just as stunning.
In the title track, “Kiss,” Waves made a clear effort to shift public focus from Fang Li’s looks to his undeniable talent. In the video, he showcased his fluent piano skills. The music video depicted a young man sitting alone in a church, with sunset streaming through the stained-glass windows, casting dazzling patterns on the piano and on him. Under his fingertips, elegant, fluid notes flowed. Audiences were stunned to discover this rising star wasn’t just a pretty face—he could actually play the piano, and play it remarkably well.
Attentive fans also noticed that two songs on the album were composed by Fang Li himself. They were thrilled, praising their own good judgment. The idol they adored wasn’t just a “pretty boy”—he was a genuine artist.
The first Kiss album signing was held in Jianjing; the second in the capital. Tickets for both events sold out on the same day. On the scalper’s market, a single ticket fetched over two thousand yuan.
It finally hit Qin Weidong just how popular Fang Li had become. It started when he overheard a few interns at the office excitedly talking about the hottest new singer—Fang Li. They were chatting about his magazine spreads, admitting they’d bought multiple issues just to cut out his photos and paste them into their notebooks. “How can someone be that good-looking and sing that well?” one intern gushed. Another mentioned her younger sister had even copied every single lyric from his album into her diary. Qin Weidong had overheard this kind of conversation more than once in just a month.
He asked his assistant to collect all the magazines featuring Fang Li. Soon, the assistant had scoured the city’s music shops and newsstands, returning with a hefty box. Qin Weidong looked at the heavy box on his desk and frowned.
“I only wanted the ones from this month,” he stated.
The assistant replied, “President Qin, these are all from this month.”
Qin Weidong fell into deep thought. He randomly pulled a magazine from the box. Its cover featured Fang Li, dressed in a high-fashion shirt and flared pants straight from the runway, with vintage sunglasses perched on his delicate face—a stark contrast to his usual casual, comfortable look at home.
The headline on the cover screamed: Fang Li—The Next Superstar Set to Take Greater China by Storm.
Qin Weidong set it down and picked up another. This one didn’t feature Fang Li on the cover, but the first exclusive interview inside was with him. The title: Exclusive: Music’s Rising Star Fang Li—A Voice and Face Touched by Angels.
Qin Weidong skimmed through the pages, which were in a Q&A format. The journalist asked about Fang Li’s birthplace and family background. Fang Li answered truthfully, revealing he’d grown up in a remote rural town. When asked how he got into music, he said it all started by chance when he lost some money while attending night school.
Qin Weidong kept reading until he reached the part where the interviewer asked how he felt about Kiss topping the charts in its first week, and whether composing two of the songs himself was a response to those who claimed he was just a pretty face. He flipped the page. The two-page spread in the renowned entertainment magazine ended without a single mention of him.
His secretary stood nearby, nervous and unsure what was going on. Qin Weidong was undoubtedly a good boss—sharp, decisive, and under his leadership, the company had grown rapidly. He was never one to make things hard for his employees. But his temperament? Well… since he rarely smiled, people often felt the young CEO’s mood could turn on a dime. The secretary kept his eyes respectfully down.
Qin Weidong picked up his phone and dialed the top contact in his list. On the other end, Fang Li was getting his hair styled, about to go live on a broadcast. He didn’t want to answer, but when he saw who was calling, he picked up.
“Hello?” Fang Li said.
Qin Weidong retorted, “Didn’t I buy you that guitar? That piano? Why wasn’t I mentioned?”
Fang Li was baffled. “What are you talking about?”
Qin Weidong said coldly, “The piano arriving at your place tomorrow—I had it shipped from the U.S.”
The showrunner was already urging Fang Li onto the stage. Fang Li covered the phone and replied, “I know. Don’t be ridiculous. I’m going on now—bye!”
Qin Weidong listened to the busy signal after Fang Li hung up. His mood soured even more.
To make matters worse, Ye Yunshan called. She was inviting him home for dinner. That wasn’t the issue—it was that she’d recently resumed setting him up with various executives’ daughters, and her intentions couldn’t have been more obvious. Qin Weidong was twenty-five now, prime age for marriage. Ye Yunshan had become even more aggressive with her matchmaking, still believing that his interest in men wasn’t real—that he was just young and immature, and hadn’t met the “right girl” yet.
Qin Weidong was utterly fed up with such social occasions. Ye Yunshan had arranged far too many of them without telling him in advance, straining their mother-son relationship. Ye Peilin often had to step in to mediate.
This time, over the phone, Ye Yunshan said it was because Aunt and her family were coming over.
That evening, Qin Weidong drove home and found that it was his long-absent cousin, Tong Na, who had returned from the United States. She had just graduated with a degree in Business Administration and wanted to intern at Qin Weidong’s company.
Since their aunt’s family had come in person and it was only an internship, Qin Weidong asked which department she was interested in. Tong Na thought for a moment and said, “The CEO’s office?”
Qin Weidong frowned. “What would you do in the CEO’s office?”
Tong Na was both afraid of and overly familiar with Qin Weidong—perhaps because everyone had always treated her with indulgent affection since she was young.
“Cousin, in the movies, the CEO’s secretary is always really pretty! Like that blonde beauty in Pretty Woman—you’ve seen it, right?” As she spoke, she pulled out her phone, covered in pink rhinestones, and tried to show him the movie poster in her photo album. Qin Weidong declined.
He gave her two other department options—neither too tough nor likely to be a headache for him. Tong Na chose the Overseas Investment Department. It was a fitting choice; after all, her English had improved quite a bit over the past few years.
Qin Weidong said, “I’ll have Secretary Li arrange it. Just give him a call when the time comes.”
Tong Na saved the number and seemed pleased. Then she asked, “Cousin, are you still with that guy?”
Qin Weidong replied, “He doesn’t have a name? If you call him ‘that guy’ again, you can go find your own internship.”
Tong Na pouted. “You’re so protective of him! But he’s a celebrity now, right? Even my classmates in the U.S. know about him. I saw one of them had his album in our dorm! Cousin, you’re already making so much money—why does he still have to be out there in the spotlight? Auntie must think he’s embarrassing for our family…”
Qin Weidong frowned and gave a sharp “tsk.” He liked Fang Li being at home—but not in the way Tong Na meant. He hated anyone speaking about Fang Li like that.
“Embarrassing to who? Are you just interning here to meet graduation requirements? If you plan to get married and be a rich housewife who never leaves the house, then don’t bother coming to Zhongsheng.”
Rebuked, Tong Na fell silent. Her cousin was great in every way—except when it came to anyone criticizing that Fang Li! She mumbled, “Fine! I won’t talk about him anymore! Happy now?” Then she ran off with her phone to complain to Ye Yunshan, saying her cousin scolded her. Ye Yunshan had always adored Tong Na like a daughter, and the two of them quickly got lost in another cheerful conversation.
Sometimes Qin Weidong couldn’t understand this spoiled little princess—she knew she’d get scolded every time she mentioned Fang Li, yet she still brought him up again and again.
He pushed open the door and went into the garden to call Fang Li and ask if his show was over. Just then, he heard the door open behind him. He turned around—it was Tong Na’s classmate, Lin Huiru.
Lin Huiru brought him a cup of coffee. She had come back this time with Tong Na.
“Brother Weidong… it’s been a while.”
It really had been a while—Qin Weidong couldn’t even remember when he’d last seen her. When he turned his head again, both Ye Yunshan and Auntie had already disappeared from the living room.
Qin Weidong put away his phone. “I’ve got things to do. I’m heading out.”
Lin Huiru didn’t even have a chance to say another word before Qin Weidong grabbed his jacket from the living room, told Ye Yunshan he was leaving, and walked out.
When he got home, Fang Li had also returned after finishing his livestreamed performance. Lying in bed, Qin Weidong recounted the incident, making Fang Li burst into laughter.
“You really just left like that?”
“Where else was I supposed to go?” Qin Weidong leaned in to nip at his cheek. “Weren’t you the one who told me, if Ye Yunshan invites me over and there’s a woman involved, it means it’s a setup? You told me to leave right away.”
That was one good thing about Qin Weidong—even though his macho pride could be a bit much, he did listen. If Fang Li said something and he didn’t understand, he’d just follow his lead. Simple as that.
Fang Li couldn’t stop laughing, and Qin Weidong didn’t mind that he was being laughed at. He reached over to pinch Fang Li’s waist. “Who sent the flowers in the living room?”
“Haha, fans, of course—who else?” Fang Li laughed so hard he was short of breath, blocking Qin Weidong’s hand. “Stop that, I pulled my back today on stage. The lift platform malfunctioned for a second, scared the hell out of me, and now it really hurts…”
As soon as Qin Weidong heard that, he stopped and had him lie on his stomach. He lifted his pajama shirt and inspected his waist. There was no visible injury, but when he pinched it, Fang Li cried out in pain.
Qin Weidong grew worried. “Let me call a doctor to check it out.”
He was about to get his phone when Fang Li said, “No need—it’s the middle of the night. Where are you going to find a doctor now? It’s just a pulled muscle. I’ll get a massage therapist tomorrow.”
Fang Li hugged him, murmuring, “That livestream show was exhausting… I’m beat. Let’s sleep.”
The next morning, Qin Weidong still hadn’t forgotten about Fang Li’s back. Fang Li thought it wasn’t a big deal, but Qin Weidong insisted on a hospital visit. Left with no choice, Fang Li pulled out his phone and called Yang Yaocheng. Back pain and sprained ankles were common for artists, so Yang Yaocheng quickly found a massage therapist to come to the house.
The therapist arrived with a medical kit. It turned out Fang Li’s back pain came partly from yesterday’s malfunctioning stage lift, and partly from fatigue. After a massage, the therapist recommended acupuncture to improve circulation.
Qin Weidong had pushed back a meeting to be with him. While Fang Li was getting treated, he stepped out to make some calls. When he returned, Fang Li was lying face-down, several needles stuck into his pale, slender waist.
Blood rushed to Qin Weidong’s head the instant he saw it.
“What the hell is this?! Who the fuck told you to stick him with needles?!”
Qin Weidong’s outburst startled Fang Li, and even the acupuncturist and his assistant were taken aback. Fang Li reached out a hand to soothe him. “Don’t panic—I asked for the acupuncture. It’s to treat the back pain!”
He then turned to Yang Xiaoliu, who had come along, and said, “Take the master outside for now. There’s tea.”
Yang Xiaoliu glanced at Qin Weidong’s face, which looked terrifying enough to kill, and quickly ushered the master out.
Qin Weidong crouched in front of Fang Li and reached out, but didn’t dare touch him. He stared at the needles in Fang Li’s lower back—there were seven or eight of them, embedded in the flesh.
“Does it hurt?”
Fang Li couldn’t move and replied from where he lay, “No, it really doesn’t. The master has excellent technique. The first needle just felt like a fingernail pinch. After that, nothing. Like tiny ant bites.”
Looking at the needles, Qin Weidong’s voice turned hoarse. “How could it not hurt…”
Truthfully, Fang Li had been nervous too—he’d never had acupuncture before. If he’d been alone, he wouldn’t have agreed. But knowing Qin Weidong was just outside, he felt safe. With Qin Weidong there, nothing could go wrong. And once the needles were in, he realized they didn’t hurt at all—in fact, they felt quite soothing. He had been exhausted lately, and the soreness, tingling, and heaviness from the acupuncture actually relieved his fatigue.
After a moment, Fang Li said, “It just feels sore and a bit swollen. We’ve never done this before, but it’s really refreshing…”
Qin Weidong said nothing. He still didn’t dare touch him, only crouched there silently.
Fang Li knew Qin Weidong was distressed. He stretched out the hand he could move to pinch Qin Weidong’s cheek, urging him not to look so grim. It was just acupuncture—not major surgery.
Seeing Fang Li smiling, Qin Weidong said, “My neck hurts too. Can it be treated? Bring him back in to stick a few in me.”
The master came back, and Qin Weidong sat beside Fang Li. The master examined his neck—it was mainly just fatigue—and quickly inserted a few needles.
At first, Fang Li thought Qin Weidong truly had neck pain and wanted to try acupuncture. But as he watched him sit there silently while each needle was inserted—and then ask whether he could get more, to match Fang Li’s number—he finally understood.
The acupuncturist was baffled. He’d never had someone ask for more needles after finishing. There wasn’t enough room on the neck to match the back.
Fang Li said, “It’s fine, Master. He has enough. Thank you.”
After the master left, Fang Li chuckled. A memory surfaced from his childhood: he’d been scared of getting shots, and Qin Weidong had offered to try it first. He didn’t know better back then—he just watched as Qin Weidong took a thick sewing needle and jabbed it into the back of his own hand. The scar was still there today.
Qin Weidong scolded, “Don’t laugh.”
Fang Li held it in—laughing tugged on his back muscles and made the acupuncture sites ache. He reined in his thoughts and, still lying there, said softly, “Isn’t it strange? It didn’t hurt much when I got mine, but watching you get yours made me feel the pain…”
Axolotl Translations 
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